Pretty Visitors
by m2468
Summary: "I guess we have that in common. Not having any control over our bodies. As long as he doesn't care about my condition, I don't care about his." Story of Blake and Paul.


I honestly wish I could die right now. First time I've ever thought that, but if you had to sit on a flight from Chicago to fucking nowhere, Washington, you'd say the same. So don't judge me. On my left is a slightly overweight, and quite smelly man who is snoring on my shoulder. Perks of flying standby, right? On my right is my 16 year old brother, Zane, reading Car and Driver. It's not that we can't afford better. It's just that my dad thought it would be more financially convenient since it wasn't too long of a flight.

You see, my dad is not very typical. He has tattoos all over his body, and looks like an older version of Charlie Hunnam from SOA. He kind of had the lifestyle of him too, back in Chicago. See, he is a motorcycle guy. So he was kind of a part of a crime gang. Maybe. A little bit. Okay, yes, he was.

It all started before I was born, when he had just met my mom. If you had seen my parent together, you would probably guess they were friends or even siblings, because they were total opposites. Never would you guess they were married. See, my mom was the definition of a good girl, while my dad was the definition of a bad boy. He had piercings, tattoos, and dressed like a biker (except not so overwhelming like most I know) while my mom dressed in cardigans and dresses. They had that insta-love, honestly. Mom just waltzed into his bar in a bad part of Chicago, and demanded hard liquor after a particularly bad date. Dad saw her, and tried talking to her. Mom, being naïve, let him buy her a drink despite his appearance. I think, because of that, he fell in love with her right then. Mom thought he was trouble though. But look where it got her? Two kids and a husband who adored her with everything he has. My father is a good man, and a better father. He's been doing it on his own for a while, since mom died when I was eleven and Zane was six. It was hard on him. He had to go on rides a lot (but he took Zane and I with him) and it hit him really hard. He got his gang to beat up the drunk driver who killed my mother. I'm pretty sure the asshole has brain damage, but I don't care. He deserves it. My mom was a PTA mom. Came to all my recitals, practices, games, and Zane's too. She baked cookies every Sunday and dragged us to church. Kind of weird since my dad is in a MC, right? But that was mom. And we loved her for it.

My mom came from good money, but her parents were very loving and had passed away when she was 17. My mom was gorgeous with her dark brown hair and blue eyes, and she had the body of a model. I got her dark brown hair but I got my grandma's hazel eyes, which I love because they totally look like a lion's. Zane has dad's blond hair and mom's blue eyes and is probably one of my favorite people in the world. He's been with me through everything that has happened. He was only six when my mom died, while I was eleven. He doesn't remember her very well, but I do. I remember everything. Especially my parents' relationship. It was everything I wanted but would probably never have.

So basically, my dad and Zane had left Chicago, their lives, for me. Zane is a star football player, and my dad was, well, you know. But now that we're moving to La Push, dad's gonna be a mechanic. Since I'm 21, I don't really have to go to school, but I've been going to cooking school while bartending at my dad's bar, Cora's. Thankfully, I just have to drive only an hour to Port Angeles to go to cooking school. I love to bake and cook, and my dad and Zane love my food, so I figured I might as well do something I love and that I'm good at. My dad doesn't care what we do, as long as we're happy and safe. If my brother wanted to be a ballerina, my dad would say something along the lines of "oh that's great kiddo!". But Zane wants to either be a mechanic like dad or try going for the NFL. Both he could do, and both we support as long as he gets his high school diploma.

"Look at this baby, it's just like Betsy, but look at the engine. I can get you the same one and she'd run way smoother and faster. Whaddya think, Blake?" Zane asks, showing me an exact replica of my baby Betsy, a 1967 Mustang I got for my 16th birthday. Zane got a Harley for his.

"I can't think when I have drool on my shoulder from this dillweed over here." I nod towards the asshole on my left who thinks I'm a fucking body pillow.

Zane rolls his eyes and reaches over me, and shoves him off of me. It's comical really. The guy's head snaps back and if he wouldn't have been buckled in, he would've fell into the aisle. He's glaring daggers at Zane, while he's just sitting there grinning at the guy, until he gets a good look at Zane. He's just like dad in more ways than one. They're both giants, with dad about 6'3" and Zane 6'4", with too many muscles, and they have that baddass biker vibe going on. If I didn't know how they really are, I'd probably be a little scared of them. Just like BO guy is, with his eyes bugging out, and how he's scooted as far from me as possible. I just roll my eyes and smirk at Zane.

"Hello, welcome to Washington, if you are visiting, and welcome home to the natives! It's 3:30 PM here, and slightly cloudy. We should be landing in about ten minutes, so please be seated and follow safety instructions."

"Fucking finally. I hate this flight." I say, trying to get comfortable. My head aches, my body aches, and I just want to fucking sleep.

"Are you okay?" Zane asks, concern filling his eyes as he frets over me. This is what I love about him. Despite everything, he still cares about me and doesn't hate me for the shit I've put him and dad through, including this move.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just want to sleep." I say, closing my eyes.

"You can sleep in the car. I'll even let you have shotgun." He says, wriggling his eyebrows up and down. I can't help but laugh at him.

"'You'll let me'? What made you think you even had a chance of it, baby brother?" I say, laughing. He just mock glares and puts his magazine away.

Ah, and there it is. The feel of the plane descending onto the landing strip. Fucking finally. When it's our turn to get off the plane, I tap the gross asshole on the shoulder and smile sweetly.

"You owe me twenty dollars for getting your fucking drool on my favorite shirt, asshole. Pass it over." I say in the most menacing voice ever. This voice gets me places. It scares the shit out of everyone. But I think my appearance does that anyway. I have a shit ton of tattoos. But the only ones visible through my vintage Zeppelin tee are my sleeves. They are very intricate flowers going down one arm, with my mom's name incorporated. I love it because it has the thorns and stems too, unlike most that just show the pretty side of roses. My other arm has a phoenix with bright reds and blues and gold. I guess they make me look intimidating?

They must, because the guy hands me a twenty, all while grumbling… and is he shaking? My smile gets wider.

"Thanks, fucktard." I bump past him. Hard. He stumbles.

I hear Zane laughing behind me. Once we get out of the gate, we look for dad. It's actually hard to miss him. He towers over everybody else with his inked arms folded and a pissed off look on his face. I share a smile with Zane before we reach him.

"Good flight, pops?" Zane asks.

"Sure sure." Dad grumbles. But he looks noticeably better. "Blake? You okay?"

"Mhmm. Tired. Some asshole was drooling and snoring on me. Fun times. But I got twenty bucks out of the guy." Dad puts one arm around my shoulder and one around Zane's.

"That's my girl." He grins at me. "You can sleep in the- fuck! Blake? You okay? Zane, she looks like she's gonna pass out. Carry her and I'll get the bags."

Fuck me. Before I can topple over from dizziness, Zane swoops me into his arms. Good thing I've lost about ten pounds this month. Actually, not really good.

"Put me down you doofus. I can walk. Or stumble. Or crawl. Or roll."

Zane just laughs at me, "Ha ha sure you can. You'd get trampled cause you're so tiny nobody would see you." That is the truth. Got my mom's height. I'm only 5 feet tall.

"Shut the hell up and let me sleep on you."

"Please, I am begging you. Do not drool on me."

"It would serve you right for making me take the middle seat."

"Whatever."

And then I pass out in my baby brother's arms.


End file.
